Thought you'd always be there for me
by ThatPersonInTheCorner
Summary: America and Iggy had another fight, but this time the words were a bit more hurtful. On America's way to apologize he was kidnapped. Story rated for violence and gore...and perhaps some later fluffiness! USxUK in the end :D Sucky summary sucks. Is thinking of changing title to: Sometimes a Hero needs a Hero - Chapter 11 is Up!
1. Ignorance isn't a Bliss

America paused, as the sounds of England's laughter and Frances cheerful voice poured out, along with the sliver of light, into the dark hall. His hand, only inches from the door handle, fell down limply as his smile faded. Just as quietly as he had come, he turned and walked back down the hallway, not paying any attention to his surroundings. It was here that he made his fatal mistake.

The shadows shifted, and in a move to fast to allow America any time to cry out, something swung towards his head…

America groaned as the darkness started to fade and the throbbing on the side of his head came to the front of his mind. Trying to think back past the pain, he remembered the horrible things he had said earlier that day in his fight with England, England's expression as each one struck home, his feeling of guilt later on, going to find England to give him a present and apologize, finding England with France, something jumping out at him from the shadows…

The last thought struck home, slamming full awareness back into his body, making the pain in his head worse as he opened his eyes to bright white lights. After his eyes adjusted to the light, America attempted to sit up to move at all, and found he couldn't. He was bound to the table, his ankles, wrists, and forehead tightly tied down to where he couldn't even move an inch.

It was just as America started to freak out, that a soft menacing chuckle echoed through the room. Every single one of his muscles locked and froze, causing a slow aching pain to start spreading over his body. Into his line of vision the person emerged, causing horrible shudders to rack America's body.

"Vell, vell, vell. Look who ve have here" the person crooned in a sickly innocent voice. In another lightning fast move, America found himself shirtless, his chest and stomach muscles flexed in his fear. "Vat a pretty body…I can't wait to _**ruin it**_", the last two words were hissed softly in America's ear, followed by a rough tongue up the shell of the _same_ ear. As the person started to stand back up, America spit in his face, "You Monster! I'll never give you what you want!" but the person only chuckled that same soft menacing chuckle…It caused goose bumps to rise over America's skin, "Don't ve silly, I'm going to make you _**mine**_."

"You-"before he could even continue his sentence, a large gash was open across his abdomen, "AAAAAAAAAGH" America's voice rose up in pitch as a hot iron was placed over the same spot, sealing up the wound. Clenching his teeth tight, his spine bowed from the pain of such a simple act, but there was much more to come as he noticed the fire like glow in the corner of his eye, no, the torture had just begun. With another startled cry, America hissed at the person, as blood ran down his forearms and as the wounds, were again, hot ironed shut.

It was after many of these cuts, being opened, and closed again, that America's vision began to blur from the pain. It seared all over his body, like he was pushed into lava, only to be hauled out and set on fire, it was on repeat, happening all over again. Finally the cutting and sealing ended, but in a way, everything had just begun.

Eyes tightly shut, America carefully unclenched his jaw letting out a huge lungful of air slowly as it seemed the torture had ended…as he carefully opened his eyes, the monsters face loomed over his with a sadistic smile in place. "Your screams stopped, I should try harder da?" the crazy psychopath asked in a still sickly cheerful and innocent tone, America stayed defiantly quiet…that is, until the second phase of torture started.

Hot irons rammed into his flash leaving singed skin everywhere they touched, soon America's body felt like it was in the middle of the sun, his screams tore out of his mouth and kept growing in pitch till he lost his voice. A large iron had been left on his neck, to form a type of scar like collar, the monsters sadistic laugh rang throughout the room as he watched every single tear escape down his victim's cheeks.

Bright dots colored America's vision right before the pain was too much for him, and he blacked out.

The End of Chapter One.


	2. Shoulda kept my mouth closed

Slowly America regained consciousness, opening his eyes he saw nothing. Everywhere it was black, a tight ball of fear lodged itself in his throat, was he blind now too? Who knows what that sadistic bastard could've done to him while he was out… Moving his body slightly, America ignored the pain he was feeling from just the small movements. It was **nothing **compared to what he had just been through, besides the pain was the last thing on his mind, looking up…or what he thought was up America spotted a soft glow…

There were bars…and it looked like an old sewage drain? Almost letting out a cheer of joy, he realized he actually wasn't blind! That sick fuck might've done a lot of things to him, but depriving him of sight wasn't one of them. Using his hands to feel for his surroundings, much to Americas despair he realized he was stuck in a hole, a drainage hole if you must, with no way out but to wait for the bastard who had thrown him into this.

~_Two Days Later_

America's stomach was aching; it felt as if it were trying to eat itself and all the organs around it. Groaning out loud, the sound came out all raspy and barely audible; despite all of his shouts no-one had heard him, desperately thirsty and hungry America found it surprisingly welcome when a shadow was thrown over the drainage hole top. Well, it was welcoming 'till he heard the now oh-so-familiar chuckle come from the devil himself, "Stay away you sick fuck! You Mother fucking Bastard! How dare you!" America snapped at him. Only enlightening more bone chilling chuckles to arise, a can was thrown in between the bars, before America could do anything it burst with gas and he felt himself start to slip away again…

~_Some Time Later_

Again, it seemed America's luck just wasn't with him anymore, because _**fucking again**_ he was tied to a table or whatever the fuck he was on. He just couldn't believe this! Before he could muster enough strength to break the binds that were now only holding his feet and wrists down, the sick bastard **dared** to walk through the door and towards him. Only a little to America's surprise, he snarled at him, a true guttural feral snarl that tore out of his gut and chest and through his teeth, yet this seem to only delight and excite the fucker more.

It seemed there would be no taunting words today, not one word at all, only those horrifying bone freezing chuckles that scared America to the core. "So, what's it going to be today fucker? Huh? Another one of your m-"his words were cut off by a piece of cloth gagging him, 'maybe I should have stayed quiet' America thought as metal wires, attached to sharp metal needles, were jabbed into the top of his wrists and the sides of his ankles. 'Ohshitohshitohshitohshit…please dear god, save me from this' he silently prayed upwards, even though he had no-hope for the situation he was in, he watched the motherfucker get up and walk toward the far wall. Where there was a light switch…

He flipped it.

A loud and long scream tore out of America's mouth as his back slightly bowed off the table, the first shock was over in seconds, though it seemed like endless pain and agony for him. His body slumped to the table with a loud thump, his eyes slightly glazed locked on the man, he watched as the man reached for a dial…and slowly turned it up. The switch was flipped again.

An even louder and more piercing scream tore out of his mouth this time, the cloth barely doing anything to contain the sound, along with his screams that hell freezing chuckle played in and out of them, like a melody. The second shock was over, America didn't know how much more he could take, already his vision was getting hazy, and again the man turned the dial up, but much to America's horror…He kept his hand on it and flipped the switch again.

This time, the cloth did nothing, as the dial was turned more and more, America's back was fully bowed off the table, his screams rising to such a high extant that they became silent…

Right before blacking out all America knew was that he couldn't breathe, he couldn't feel anything but the acidic freezing lava burning holes inside of him, he blacked out again…but his screams didn't stop…

End of Chapter 2

How do you like it so far? :D This is the first actual 'Gory Story' I've ever made! *squeals*

PLEASE leave a review with any 'torture' methods for America in later chapters. No I don't despise America, or anything…he's just…such an easy victim I guess…

If you know who the 'torturer' is…Message me ;D I'll let you know if you're correct, and if you're not…I might have to reveal it soon… ^-^


	3. Break in the Peace

Yet again it seemed America was waking up in another dark place, but this one smelled different then all the others, it smelled musty, and misty…Like there was water somewhere, but despite the ache in his throat to find the source America couldn't move a muscle, _hell_, he couldn't feel a thing except for a numbness that wrapped his body in a cool cold bliss. He felt himself relaxing, or was he dying and leaving his body? He couldn't tell if he was alive or not, but he didn't care, for he was in a sweet, cool, calm, bliss. Safe from the fire and pain…safe from the sadistic who had been torturing him, everything was at peace in the world.

_**BAM!**_

America started, as a bright rectangle of light fell on him and that now oh-so-familiar shape stood in the middle of it, he couldn't move his head still…so his eyes were faced as high as they would go. Dimly in his still numb mind-set he wondered why the fucker was so high up, it didn't make sense, that was, until he felt something cold around his legs and buttocks.

The shock from the freezing water helped jolt his nervous system back into action, and **everything** came into clear focus, he was surrounded by _ice_. The water was fucking _glacier _cold, and there was no way out...He couldn't climb the walls, they were too slippery, and so he was stuck as the water continued to get higher and higher.

'_Shit, oh shit…this is not good, I could really go for some nice hot steamy hamburgers right now…FUCK the hamburgers, I might never even have one ever again!'_ America's mind set grew panicked at the thought of never being able to have another one of his 'precious' hamburgers ever again. By this time, the water was already at waist level and Americas legs didn't exist, there was _absolutely_ nothing to feel down there it was so mind numbingly cold.

His body started to rack in shivers, uncontrollable shakes that left his teeth smashing together and his arms locked around his torso, suddenly-just below his heart, the water stopped. That devilish chuckle echoed along with the soft click of the door closing, and America was left in the pitch dark, in glacier cold water, starving and dehydrated. Sure, he could drink the water, but it could be poisoned, or make him even colder and kill him. '_Well…I guess now I know how it felt when people were sinking on the Titanic_' he thought trying to keep himself awake and alert, it worked…for about two seconds.

~_Some Unknown Amount of Time Later_

Another loud bang just barely registered in America's half-conscious mind as, somehow, he found himself on the floor again. The world blurred into nothingness, before going dark, but he was not unconscious, oh no, he could feel and hear and even smell everything that was going on around him; America was just in…a…particular state of mind. One that was, again, numb and peaceful. Until, suddenly he could feel his body again, it was on fire, _cold _fire.

Snapping his eyes open he let out a strangled scream of agony, sitting up in the process and getting a clear view of his red welted beneath the heart swollen body. His previous cuts and burns were extremely upraised and hurt even worse, yellow and white gooey stuff oozed out of them slowly, his breath kept increasing as he continued to take in the sight of his mangled body. Then…the blood curdling sound came from behind him again…

"Kolkolkolkolkol" the shadowy shape shifted, "I do believe, vat you look quite dashing…vouldn't you say?" its voice mocked out, in that sickeningly sweet and innocent tone. How could he had ever been fooled! It had been evil all along; he had ignored it though, like the idiot he was! Idly, America wondered if anyone was worried about where he was right now, or if anyone even cared that he seemed to be missing…Mathew would right? Surely his brother would be the first to notice, but…no-one paid any attention to his older brother, slowly all of Americas hope started to leave him. No-body else was going to care about his disappearance, hell, England would probably be glad to get rid of him so he could hang out with France.

Slumping back onto the table, America let his despair, and the pain, take over. Welcoming the darkness that soon engulfed his worn out mind.

~_Somewhere Else…_

"Where the bloody hell is that fat oaf! He's been gone for a bloody week now!" the figure pacing back and forth ranted to himself, it seemed he had been doing this for the past five days or so, clearly despite his 'hatred' towards the country, this figure still cared deeply for him and worried about him. Maybe…a bit too much at times…but now was the perfect time to be worrying.

End of Chapter 3

Tell me if you like!

I know this wasn't the BEST method of torturing, buuut, like I said, it's not exactly a 'torture' story, and I don't hate America :/

You should DEFINENTLY know who the 'torturer' is now XD if not… then… o.o

I'll make it blaringly obvious sooner or later. But like I said, this story's going to end up as an UsxUk fluff.

Please, please, _please_ leave me a review! I'm confused on when America should be saved soon, or wait a few more chapters!


	4. Searching for his Hero

_PREVIOUSLY…_

~_Somewhere Else…_

"Where the bloody hell is that fat oaf! He's been gone for a bloody week now!" the figure pacing back and forth ranted to himself, it seemed he had been doing this for the past five days or so, clearly despite his 'hatred' towards the country, this figure still cared deeply for him and worried about him. Maybe…a bit too much at times…but now was the perfect time to be worrying.

_Continued:_

It was during the pacing that England took a much too sharp turn and bumped into a table up against the wall and causing it to move a few inches; cursing a few oaths under his breath, he continued his pacing. The anxiety and fear building up with each strut he took across the polished wooden floor. Watching his feet he notices the corner of what looked to be black wrapping paper? Bending down, England reached under the same exact table he had bumped into not two minutes ago and pulled out a small-medium sized box wrapped up in a black type of cloth. "What the bloody…" He muttered as he turned it over and read the little sticker on it, his breath catching and throat constricting.

It was from America…to…him? Why would that git even bother with something like this? Opening the small little card, he read it to himself; 'Yo Iggy! I'm sorry about what I said earlier…so here's a present!'. England was sure America would've said the same thing to him anyways, it was just something the wanker would do, but even as he tried to feel some sort of anger...he just…couldn't. "Where are you Alfred?" England muttered as he opened up the small-medium box, unwrapping what was inside; he gasped and almost dropped it. Tears swelled up in his eyes but didn't fall, what had he done?

All he had ever been was mean to the bloody fat wanker, and now, who knew where he was! Heart constricting, England tucked it away in a hidden pocket over his heart-unknowingly that it **was** over his heart of course XD-, and walked more determinedly than ever down the hall.

_He had to find his Hero._

_Somewhere Else… (__**Again ;D):**_

America didn't make a sound, he was awake, but he couldn't find the will or heart to make any more effort to fight back now. What was the use? No-one was worrying about him or looking for him, so why should he even bother? Always, he's tried to be the Hero, but now what would the other countries say? Seeing one of the world's strongest nations brought down to his feet?

It was just at this moment that America realized he was on a bed, a _**way**_ to comfortable bed, it seemed as if he was floating on a cloud…Letting his body and mind relax, America sunk into oblivion, greeting it with joy and open arms. Allowing it to take him away from the small stabs of pain that had started to register in his mind, he faded away into the deepest depths of his mind, to a time when he was…younger…and together with England.

Okay, this probably sucks…but I wanted to give everyone (those few who are actually reading this) something to read because I haven't updated in a while.

Sorry about that *grins sheepishly*

Soooo…what do you think America should've given England? Because I have NO idea XD


	5. Lets get you outa here!

The weather seemed to be reflecting England's mood today, it was dark and gloomy outside, a soft and light shower of rain continuously drizzling down over the land. He was sitting on his bed, stroking the cover of a one of a kind sorcery book-first and last edition-from the early 1600's, its silky smooth surface felt of the finest cloth, and it smelled like it had been on a shelf for years. Such a lovely old book smell, England couldn't believe, or even begin to imagine, what America had gone through to get him this book, but he had done it. It hung in England's heart, the thought that he might never see the annoying wanker again, see his stupid cheesy smile, watch him stuff his face with those god awful fattening hamburgers, hear his obnoxious laughter and voice… England's face contorted in pain.

Tucking the book into his jacket, England lunged off the bed; determination replaced the pain that had been written all over his face. He stormed out of his house, having the idea of exactly where America might be because of the one nation who had been acting stranger than usual at the meetings. Despite what everyone thought, that his magic never worked, England knew the truth, that when he desired something strong enough or focused on it enough, everything worked out according to plan. Taking out a little strand of America's hair from his breast pocket-don't ask XD- England chanted a few words under his breath…and suddenly. He knew _exactly_ where America was being kept.

His face unreadable, England started on his way. Seemed like his Hero needed some rescuing.

**America**

Somewhere in his conscious mind America heard a loud slam and muttered cursing's far off in the distance, but he was still stuck in this soothing peaceful fog… A few more words were spoken that he couldn't recognize, and then America felt somebody shaking him, the sudden stings of pain snapping him awake and causing him to cry out. "WHAT THE HE-…England?" he asked through all the pain, staring straight into those green orbs, "What the bloody hell has happened to you!" England's familiar tone caused America to smile at him.

He watched as England's face went on this continuous display of emotions, horror, pain, anger, disgust, rage, compassion, and something else that he…just…couldn't…place. "I guess I look that bad huh? Ha! Ha-ha haahh…" America's voice trailed off as he bent over in a coughing fit, wincing as each cough caused more pain throughout his entire being. "Bloody Hell…I've got to get you out of here…" England muttered under his breath carefully helping America down, and out of the room, house, and into a rented car.

"Wh-where are we going?" America asked, practically using up all his remaining strength to say those words, he was limp in the passenger seat. "My house" was all England gave as a reply, as he slammed down on the gas pedal and sped off in that direction, "We have to get you healed…Bloody hell." It seemed as if those two words were the only words he was capable of saying, because America heard them repeated under England's breath the whole drive, especially every time the old British nation glanced over at him.

Okay, this sucked also. But I had to get it off my chest! Sooo…WOOHOO! Yaaay!

Do you like? If not I completely understand! It wasn't…my best :/ I'm better at fluff I promise :D But I've been feeling a bit down lately, so yeah.


	6. Pull Through

England didn't know what to think anymore, his brain was numb, his heart breaking in a million different ways. It just didn't make sense to him. Who, and why, would someone do such a thing to another person? At the moment America was sleeping in **his** bed, in **his** house. Not that it was bad or anything, but with the way America was looking, it seemed like he'd be sleeping on the couch for quite a while…

Another tremor went through England's body; just the way that America had looked…He could barely see the burn marks because every area was all upraised, swollen, infected, and oozing out yellow-ish brown puss. This meant that most of his upper body was all swollen up, and then, his skin has this crazy pink-ish hue to it, but England knew what it was judging from the marks in America's wrists and ankles. He'd been electrocuted, a horrible form of torture on the nervous system, body, and mind.

Grimacing, he could feel some bile rising in his throat, the need to puke surfacing but he swallowed it back down. He needed to be strong for America. That was all that mattered, get America back to health, and make sure he was okay. Hell, he hoped America would pull through, prayed more like it, that what he'd gone through hadn't changed him at all.

_Just let the git be okay…_England found himself thinking for the next four days, while America stayed asleep.

America woke up at random times during those four days, but he stayed quiet so as not to worry England any further, oh no, trust me he didn't **know** it'd been four days…He only woke up for about two minutes at a time before drifting off again, he hadn't noticed how easy his mind was in his sleep, or how relaxed his body was during this whole time.

Unknown to him, it was all because of England's presence which made him feel safe, secure, loved, and paid attention to. It was on the fifth day that America seemed to not be able to doze off again, after laying there and staring up at the ceiling for god-knows-how-long, he called for England. "Yo Iggy…" his voice cracked and sounded incredibly hoarse, not to mention it barely filled the room. It was a wonder how England had heard him and came quickly into the room, not exactly looking like he usually did, he had shadows under his eyes, and his usually bright green eyes seemed to be filled with a dark worry…well until he saw that America was okay and they seemed to brighten up again.

"Don't call me that wanker!" England snapped at America, like usual, which made him smile contentedly. "Sure thing Artie" America said with a soft smile, which made England's glare soften into something else, "Got to change these bandages…" England muttered as he slowly helped America sit up. Screwing his eyes closed, at the amount of pain it took _just_ to do that made him miss the look on England's face as he took in all of America's torso and back.

"Bloody hell…"

"Aww c'mon Artie, it can't be **that** bad!"

"You're goddamn oozing bloody puss everywhere and it's all over the bloody sheets you git!"  
"HAHAHA! You said puss…"

"Yes you bloody git! As in that disgusting foul smelling stuff that oozes out of infected cuts and areas?"  
"Ewww…I don't want to know these things Iggy!"  
"Don't call me Iggy! You dumb wanker! Besides, that's what's coming out of your body!"  
"HA! That's what she sai- HOLY MOTHER OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE! THAT HUUUURTS IGGY!"

"Stop being such a baby bloody git! It's just some disinfectant!"  
"But it huuuurts…"

*sigh* "If you quit your whining I'll go buy you some of those goddamn bloody hamburgers"

"YOU WILL? Suddenly the world seems much brighter! Today is a good day USA! HAHAHAHA! That's me!"  
*mumbles* "Sometimes I wonder if you were born with a few missing circuits…"  
"What was that Iggy?"  
"Nothing you bloody dumb git! Stop calling my Iggy!"  
"If you say so Artie!"  
*facepalm* "Why do I even bother!"

England sighed and stomped out of the room, finally done with bandaging the wanker up, and giving him the proper medicine. "I'll be back git! Stay in the bloody damn bed!" he snapped at America right before slamming the door closed and heading towards the closest Mickey D's, a promise was a promise after all….

Hello! It's me again! So, I decided to try this chapter and make it a lil' differently. Not sure what I think of it yet…but I hope you like it!

Review! It helps the next chapter to appear faster…(hehe that rhymed :3)


	7. Who invited you!

America was currently munching on his fifth burger, despite how much England seemed to hate this stuff…he had to admit. It seemed that with each burger America gained strength, how these greasy monstrosities gave the fat git strength was a mystery to him, but if it made America better…well…he guessed he could tolerate them.

Not realizing he had been staring, America looked up and spoke with his mouth full of chewed up food "What? You keep staring at me…it's getting kind of creepy dude...", "Sorry…" England muttered, feeling his face start to burn. What was with him lately? All these feelings of protectiveness, anger, and something else he just couldn't quite place.

A loud knock broke England out of his thoughts and America's head snapped up. "Who the bloody hell would come over here this late in the day!" England growled under his breath as he stomped to the door, he opened it, just about to cuss out the person at the door and send them on their way when that annoyingly snooty voice startled him.

"_Bonjour l'Angleterre_!" the frenchie said way too enthusiastically in front of him.

"What the bloody hell do _you_ want Frog" England sneered, as France was already in his house, having glided past with a flip of his hair while England was still in shock.

"I just came to visit _mon_ favorite country!"

_**SMACK!**_

"Not in le face!" France cried out as he cringed, from what seemed to be another oncoming attack, he was covering his face and had tears in his eyes.

"Yo Iggy! Who was at the door?" a loud shout came from England's room, much to his embarrassment and horror. "Ohonhonhon I did not know you had _Amérique_ over_ l'Angleterre_, I hope I am not interrupting anything" France smirked that supposedly all knowing smirk at England, who glared and simply told the Frog that it was not what he thought.

Of course, France had to go see for himself, and was down the hall to England's room before England could stop him…

"_Oh mon dieu!_"

Looked like France now knew about America's current state of well-being…now how to keep the bloody idiotic Frog quiet was the trick.

As you can see…I brought onii-san in! Needed the story to liven up a bit… I think I did pretty good with France. Sadly, I'm not so good with England, so sorry if it doesn't seem right ('^-^) I'm trying my best…

I think this is my shortest Chapter yet! So sorry! I promise the next one will be much longer!

Oh yeah…I forgot to do this in my other Chapters…

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Hetalia, or any of the Characters. **(sadly :c)


	8. Something's Changed

Surprisingly…keeping France quiet was easy, as long as he was allowed to cook for America- since England's food was…well I think we all know ;D- anyways, France was willing to help out. But he was going to break the news to Canada and would, whether the two other countries wanted him to or not, America's brother **did** have a right to know after all.

So France was gone within the hour, surprising both England and America at his quick departure, but I'm sure if they had known what he was going to do…he wouldn't have been able to leave the house. So, without the other countries knowing of his plan, France left them in peace, trying to catch the soonest flight to Canada. No need to call, he always did like to surprise the quieter country, and what better way to make his announcement then with a dramatic entrance?

It was during the few hours Francis was away that Arthur practically smothered Alfred, not letting him do anything, checking on him every ten minutes, making sure he was absolutely comfortable. It was seriously getting on America's nerves…seriously! Like, he could handle himself! He didn't need England to be all smothering and over protective and crap! He had survived Ru-, Alfred shuddered, not even able to think of the name that had caused him all this trouble…and pain.

Finally, Alfred snapped, "Dude! You're not my mom! I need some space, jeesh..." America's sudden outburst startled England, who quickly retaliated, "You bloody git! Stop being so goddamn stupid! Your body's been through a lot and it needs its rest, I'll go make you some tea." The subject changed so rapidly that it left America dizzy, or was that just because he hadn't eaten in a while? He couldn't tell and had to close his eyes for a little while…just…a…little…while…

"_**HOLY MAPLE!**__" _

With a start America's eyes snapped open, the room was filled with light, an angry brit, a Frenchie eyeing up his brother…HIS BROTHER. "M-Mathew…what are you doing here…bro?" Alfred tried to play off with one of his signature smiles, "D-don't fool around with me Alfred, w-what happened to y-you?" Oh the question itself was simple enough, but the answer? I think not.

Canada watched as his brother's face suddenly became blank, all the emotions closed off from his blue eyes. "I don't want to talk about it." The way it was said sent a shock wave through the room; America's voice was dark, filled with no emotion what-so-ever, and said in such a way that it held no room for questioning. This was new; perhaps America wasn't as back to normal as Arthur had first thought…

So for the next few days everyone was smothering America, France and Canada cooking all his meals-they refused to give him Mickey D's much to his annoyance- and England fussing over every little thing he did. Sure his body was still all achy everywhere and he still looked like crap, but was it too much to ask for thirty minutes to himself? How about some space to **frickin** breathe? Goddamn…

This continued for the next two weeks until Alfred was better and declared that he was going home…well, until England and Canada-his own _brother_- ganged up on him and told him it wasn't safe. Sure, it probably wasn't and crap, but he was _sick_ and **tired** of being babied around! It had to stop, and he told them so, that if it didn't stop he **would** leave whether they wanted him to or not.

They made a compromise…America would have to take it easy and stay and they would give him space and not smother him as much. Oh yeah, and he was allowed to have Mc. Donald's. Couldn't forget his greasy, meaty, delicious burgers of heaven now could we?

Then, much to Alfred's despair, Canada had to go back to his home, France had already left a week before…not being able to handle the irate brit anymore. So Mathew left, leaving America slightly depressed, and Arthur hadn't been to comforting these last few weeks so it was surprising when he sat down beside Alfred on the couch. "You ok?" England's voice was soft, softer than usual, and when America looked into his eyes he started, they were a soft melted green, not the usual hard firm green color they usually were. They were soft and filled with kindness, compassion, and so many other unknown emotions, it caused a lump to form in Alfred's throat, to which he looked away and buried his face in his hands.

It reminded America of how Arthur had been towards him before the Revolutionary War, before he had decided he wanted to become his own colony…before Iggy had started hating him. It caused a slow ach in his chest, which caused him to groan involuntarily from the ache, even though it was quiet, England seemed to have heard it because he started rubbing Alfred's back soothingly. "You need your rest…" Arthur's voice trailed off as Alfred leaned against his shoulder; he started to run his fingers through America's dusty blonde hair.

America hummed in contentment as Iggy continued to play with his hair; it slowly lulled him into a deep peaceful slumber-something he hadn't had in many nights. England continued run his fingers through the dusty blonde hair, though he never touched Nantucket, he found himself eventually drifting off as well to Alfred heavy breathing. Not able to stay awake any longer, Arthur fell asleep snuggling-unknowingly- closer to Alfred on the couch…

Wow…This Chapter was rushed...and I wrote it differently. But I put some Fluffeh-ness in it!

*snickers* I'm just randomly bringing in characters here! So, dun hate on me! ('^-^)

Do you like it? Because I'm not sure how I think about this one…it seems slightly confusing… O.o


	9. Early morning surprise!

I really need to stop switching the names around I think I'll use their country names for this Chapter :3 Here's Chapter 9! :D

England woke up to feeling **way** to warm, and stiff from being in the same position to long, he was also probably woken up from his cell phone buzzing on the coffee table a few feet away. He tried to move a little bit, and couldn't, trying again he felt something tighten around him and looked down to see America's face **right there**. Letting out a _very_ manly yelp, England tried to pull away only to realize that the stupid git was holding him close like a teddy bear! Now really freaking out, because their lips were inches apart, England tried harder and America tightened his grip, causing England's arms to slip from holding him up and his lips to crash down onto America's.

_Bloody hell_…

America's eyes snapped open with a startled cry, something warm and soft had just kissed him! He heard a thump, and then saw England crash down from…the ceiling? With a bang, "Dude, what were you doing on the ceiling!" America asked, totally forgetting about what had made him freak out earlier. "You bloody wanker! You threw me up there!" England snapped at him, still lying on the ground because seriously? That **had** to hurt.

"Wha? I did? Ho-" He was cut off from England's shouting at him now about him holding England so he couldn't move, then tightening his arms which caused England to slip and… America's eyes widened as both of their faces flushed, "Err…sorry 'bout that Iggy" he said giving the older county his signature grin. England rolled his eyes, even though his cheeks were still flushed a soft pink, he sat up slowly, groaning as his back popped and cracked every few inches. Finally sitting up he flexed his back and it straightened with one loud _**POP!**_ He hadn't noticed that America's eyes were on him and filled with concern, since he was too focused on the ache in his muscles and back to pay attention to the idiot at the moment.

"Yo, Iggy, what time's it?"

"I don't know you git, why don't you get off your lazy arse and find a clock!"

*England's phone vibrates again*

"Hey! I could check the time on your phone!"

"Don't touch my phone you bloody wanker!"  
"Iggy I didn't know you had Frances number in here…he says, Canada and I are coming over tomorrow for lunch and to bring _Amérique_ dinner"

"Give me that!" *snatches phone from America* "Bloody hell…"  
"Hey…I never got to check the time" *pouts*  
"Fine. It's…bloody hell! It's only five in the bloody morning!"  
"Well then! I'm going back to sleep…" *turns onto side facing away from England*

England glared at America, but as the country started his heavy breathing again, he sighed and slowly, painfully stood up, his legs and hips popping. Slowly he made his way to his room, only to see the still yucky and slightly bloody sheets from America still on it, grimacing he pulled them off and threw them into the wash, putting fresh ones on and even fresh pillow cases. Collapsing into bed, England thought he'd be able to fall right asleep, but he couldn't get the way America's lips felt against his out of his mind…

It's Chapter 9 :D I feel evil for putting that 'kiss' in paragraph one... :D

So do you like it? It's definitely shorter than Chapter 8…but I felt I did pretty good on this Chapter.. Please leave me a review, I'm running out of ideas for this story… :P


	10. A dream or reality?

Arthur groaned as their kiss deepened, Alfred's tongue exploring the inside of his mouth, his nails dragged across Alfred's back eliciting a loud moan from him. He felt a strong tug at his shirt before his chest was bare, his nipples already taut hardened impossibly more as Alfred's mouth was suddenly on one of them, his free hand playing with the other. His other hand was slowly, lazily almost, trailing down to Arthurs vital regions… It was agonizing, how slow his fingers were moving to the one area that craved Alfred's touch the most, then, right when he was about to reach it, he skimmed around it. Pulling down Arthur's pants so that they rested at his ankles, feeling pretty naked he pulled off Alfred's shirt, missing those soft yet strong lips for only a second as they attacked his again. Suddenly Alfred was pant less, trailing kisses down his chest to his abdomen, Arthurs back arched off the bed, Alfred's lips only inches away from his manhood.

Slowly, so agonizingly slow, did Alfred pull Arthurs boxers down, freeing his aching manhood, allowing it to spring up to full attention. Alfred's tongue started to lick around it, causing a pathetic whimper to escape Arthur's mouth, his hands fisted in the sheets as suddenly Alfred gripped the base and started to drag his to-

**-BEE-BEEEEP-BEE-BEEEEP-BEE-BEEEEEP-BEE-BEEE-SMACK!**

Cursing heavily under his breath Arthur rolled over and slammed his hand down on his alarm clock, goddamn what the bloody hell was that? Sitting up, he was immediately aware of his-ahem- 'little' problem…Glancing back at the clock he realized it was only seven in the morning, which meant Alfred was still asleep so he could sneak and take a nice cold shower.

Painfully he lifted himself off the bed, every muscle in his body aching and protesting with each move he made, grabbing his clothes as quickly as he could-which wasn't very quick mind you-he limped across the hall to the bathroom. Stripping off his pajama pants, then his boxers, England slide into the shower and under the frigid water letting it sooth the muscle pains he was having and err, other problems as well.

Shutting off the water, he found that because of the freezing water his muscles were having a bit more of a harder time cooperating then before the shower, though they were still freezing and he couldn't feel the pain. Slipping on a comfortable pair of jeans and T-shirt Arthur limped out of the bathroom and into the living room…to see the star of his _very_ naughty fantasies sleeping on the couch.

_Bloody hell_.

Limping as quietly as he could to the kitchen, Arthur started to brew himself some tea, hoping that it'd calm down his nerves. Unfortunately for him, the smell woke up Alfred, which he hadn't noticed until the git shuffled into the kitchen and mumbled "morning" with a rough and goddamn _sexy_ morning voice that sounded like pure sex. Mentally face palming himself, not to mention telling himself to get a bloody grip, Arthur managed a brief greeting back before busying his mind with making a perfect cup of tea.

Trying to walk normally back to the Living room was a challenge, but once he was out of sight from Alfred, Arthurs limp was even worse, and he found himself collapsing tiredly into the closest recliner. He heard some cursing from the kitchen, before Alfred reappeared and plopped down on the couch some emergency Mickey D's biscuits and burgers in his hands. Surprisingly, he even had a cup of tea and it looked like he was nursing his left han-ah, he had burned himself on the kettle. Dumb bloody git.

"Hey, Iggy, where do you keep your sugar? This tea seriously _needs_ some sugar dude" Alfred suddenly spoke up, causing Arthur to jump and whimper softly from the sudden stabs of pain shooting down his back. Arthur glared at him, to which the American idiot was ignorant to until finally realizing he'd have to go find it on his own, teeth clenched in what looked like anger but was-unknowingly to poor Alfred-pain Arthur made himself more comfortable on the seat.

As Alfred came back into the room, Arthur had **just** started to drift off, considering the few hours of sleep he'd had, but no, the bloody arse had to be all cheery and loud!

"So, Iggy! I had like, the craziest dream last night!"

"Good for yo-"

"I imagined that you had kissed me and I had freaked out and thrown you off me! Then you hit the roof and the floor, but I went back to sleep…"

"THAT WASN'T A BLOODY DREAM YOU DUMB GIT!"

"It…wasn't?"  
"NO! GADDAMN IT!"

"Then I'm _**so**_ sorry! You looked like you were in a lot of pain! Are you okay Iggs?"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! AND DO I LOOK BLOODY OKAY TO YOU?" *he sits up and glares at Alfred*

"Looks like I get to take care of you now! ~"

Alfred picked him up and carried him into his room, Arthur was sputtering insults and all sorts of threats at him the whole time, but the git just ignored him. Placing Arthur,-again- surprisingly, carefully and softly on the bed, Alfred gave him that really annoying but sexy grin, wait…sexy? Where the hell did _that_ come from?

_A few more mental face palms later…_

Arthur was nice and comfortable on his bed, his head resting on Alfred's chest as he read to him some of Shakespeare's greatest works from an old book he had. Slowly…he started to drift off to sleep, his breathing slowed down and his eyes softly shut… But right before he fell asleep, he could've sworn the voice above him sighed in contentment and wrapped an arm around his shoulders..

Omg…this was hard... I REALLY hope you like it. It was fun to write! I got rid of my WB yay~


	11. Let me comfort you

This chapter's probably going to suck…compared to the last one XD This is going to be in Alfred's P.O.V! (I think I used their Country names in the last chapter…did I? idk... oh well :P)

Arthur's leg was thrown carelessly over his hip, his cheek resting on his chest and hand arm wrapped around his stomach. He looked so peaceful, so innocent, hell, he even looked _happy_! Alfred could barely remember a time when Arthur had looked happy, it had been so long ago, and now a days he was always throwing insults and glaring at him. It…hurt.

Sighing softly, Alfred allowed his eyes to close…just for a little while. I mean, watching someone else sleep **was** extremely tiring y'know. He was woken up by a soft sound coming from Arthur, it sounded like a…like a…like a mewl. Wait a minute, that can't be right, Arthur doesn't 'mewl', but he made the sound again and his hand was fisting up Alfred's shirt. Deciding to wait and see what would happen next, Alfred stayed completely still, barely moving his chest just to breathe, his eyes focused on Arthurs face.

Suddenly, his whole body relaxed, sagging against Alfred's own, his expression once again peaceful. After a few minutes Alfred allowed his body to relax, but before he could start dozing off, a sharp cry rang out from Arthur and his face was buried in his shirt, tears streaking down his cheeks. For a few seconds Alfred didn't know what to do, and then as if snapping back to the present, he sprang into action immediately.

Sitting up he shook Arthur softly, but when he didn't wake up and his cries just got louder, Alfred's shaking just got harder, and soon he was calling out Arthurs name worriedly. "Goddamn it Arthur! Wake up!" in what seemed like forever but was only a few seconds, Arthurs eyes snapped open and he gasped loudly, in those first few seconds Alfred saw pain he couldn't even begin to comprehend in those green eyes. Then it was gone, the second Arthur seemed to recognize where he was and who was holding him, the mask was back on.

Glaring at Alfred, suddenly he snapped, "Stop shaking me you bloody oaf!" to which Alfred gave a sheepish grin and stopped shaking the now irate country. "Sorry Iggy…", "You better be…" Alfred frowned at Arthur's behavior, it was _so_ much different from earlier this morning…he had liked the softer-ish side of him more.

"You can let go of me now git"

"Are you ok?"

"Why the bloody hell wouldn't I be?"

"Well…you **were** crying…"

"How the bloody hell do you know they weren't _happy_ tears?"

"Because you were crying out, and your face was scrunched up in pain…you can't fool my Iggy"

*mutters to self* "I've been doing good for the past hundred years"

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Mind your own business you bloody wanker!"

"Fine, fine! No need to start with the insults again…"

Alfred watched as Arthur glared at him, but there was some other emotion in his eyes…realization? No…it was…something else. "Let. Go. Of. Me." Arthur said each word threateningly, to which Alfred let go of him immediately, "Now get your idiotic bloody arse OUT OF MY BLOODY ROOM." Doing what he was told for once, Alfred pushed him gently off his lap and walked out, his brow furrowed in confusion. What was with the sudden mood swings? Talk about some bad PMSing, he chuckled humorlessly at his own lame joke. Well, a nice England had been…nice, while it lasted. Frowning Alfred walked out the front door, he needed some Mickey D's to help with his mood, and thoughts. Despite the sudden change in emotions…and how Arthur had been to him for the past hundred or so years, Alfred knew he still had a soft spot for him in his heart, but why did it feel like it was something more?


End file.
